


Gonna Take A Lot

by RedStarFiction



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Army?, Fluff, Gallavich, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Mickey Uses His Words, Nah., Protective Mickey Milkovich, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:21:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedStarFiction/pseuds/RedStarFiction
Summary: Awesome prompt from @highoffcobain on Tumblr :)





	Gonna Take A Lot

‘Philip?’

‘It’s Lip.’

‘It’s just Gallagher now. Get on.”

Ian feels an absolute thrill at those words. Just Gallagher now. Not ‘Ian’, not ‘Red’ and definitely not fucking ‘Firecrotch’. Just Gallagher. Anonymous enough to finally let him get out from being one of six but allowing him to keep that connection to his home. He tugs his scarf a little closer and hitches his bag a little higher on his shoulder, the guy behind him has fumbled his ID and it gives Ian a legitimate couple of seconds to savour this moment.

He balances one booted foot on the coach platform and takes a deep breath, his last of the frosty South Side air for at least four years, long enough to get over the hurt and the pain he has been living with for months. Long enough to stop seeing glimpses of perfect white teeth and bright blue irises every time he closes his eyes. Long enough to stop craving the touch of tattooed fingers and the scent of pomade. Long enough to feel whole without someone who has done nothing but push him away.

A car horn blares loud and close enough that Ian jumps back from the bus reflexively and several people in the queue scatter as a battered sand coloured car with familiar cracked headlights screeches to a halt in front of the bus.

Ian barely has time to register what is happening before Mickey is throwing the car door open and throwing himself out of it, not even bothering to kill the engine.

“GALLAGHER?!”

Mickey yells at the group of recruits, apparently unaware of the seven automatic weapons that have been instantly trained on his chest by the military personnel present.

“Civilian! You can’t park there!”

The officer beside Ian barks, drawing Mickey’s attention toward him. Ian considers throwing himself onto the bus and hiding from the situation unfolding in front of him but that is not who he is, it never has been, it’s why he can’t settle for what Mickey can offer him.

“I’m not fuckin’ parkin’. I’m collecting.”

Mickey glares and barrels forward.

“Step back, Sir!”

Ian hears seven rifles cocked in unison and panic floods his mind, pushing him forward before he has a chance to think about what he’s doing.

“It’s OK! Don’t shoot! He’s … He’s with me.”

He yells throwing his arms wide, shielding Mickey from the pointed guns, his knees almost buckling in relief as the weapons are lowered.

“Don’t … what? These fuckers are gonna shoot me? Jesus fuckin’ Christ! No wonder the fuckin’ terrorists are winning!”

Mickey peers around Ian to yell at the military men and women who are all looking at him like he is pond scum.

“Shut the fuck up, Mickey! I’m sorry, he’s sorry. We’ll just be a minute.”

Ian implores and the sergeant with the clipboard clearly thinks the hood-rat with the piece of shit car is going to be more trouble than it’s worth to try and make him leave by force.

“Sort this out and get on the bus, Gallagher. Tell your friend he has two minutes to move his car or we’re going through it.”

“Yes Sir, Thank you.”

Ian nods before rounding on Mickey with absolute fury fuelled by adrenaline

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What the fuck are YOU doing here?”

Mickey counters and Ian shoves him in the chest, hard

“Is this a fucking game to you?

“Oh yeah, I love games that nearly get me killed by G.I Joe and fuckin’ Jill over there!”

Mickey throws another filthy look and middle finger at the men and woman in uniform and Ian grabs a fistful of his sleeveless hoodie, dragging him back towards his car.

“Get in your car and go home.”

“Not without you.”

Mickey snaps, slapping Ian’s hand from his top and stopping dead on the tarmac.

“Why? What do you see happening, huh? I come back and just wait for you to bend over once or twice a week?”

“Hey! Keep your damn voice down!”

Panic flutters across Mickey’s face and Ian buries his head in his hands with a frustrated, humourless laugh.

“Jesus, Mickey! You just crashed an army recruitment drive – pretty sure most people here have figured you’re gay, even if it’s still a mystery to you!”

Ian rubs his fingers into the socket of his eyes as if warding off a headache and sighs.

“Go home to your wife, Mickey.”

“She’s not … I don’t know how to … You …”

Mickey fights for the words but they won’t come and he can see Ian losing what little patience he has left.

What he wants to say to Ian is that he doesn’t know if exactly what he feels, he doesn’t know if Ian means everything to him and he doesn’t know if he can give Ian everything he clearly needs. But Ian makes Mickey feel something and that is more than anyone else has ever done and Mickey doesn’t want him to go.

Mickey draws his lower lip inwards and twists it between his teeth until there is a sharp pain and the faint metallic taste of blood blooms on his tongue. He looks up at Ian and sees everything that he stands to lose reflected in those beautiful green eyes that he sees in his dreams every night without fail.

“Don’t go, okay? Just stay. I can make more time for you. Whatever you need.”

The words sound weak and too small for all the emotion they contain. Mickey closes his eyes, embarrassed and utterly wretched. He sounds like a little bitch but worse because at least bitches normally manage to say something flowery. All he can manage is a pathetic plea and an offer of no substance. It is everything Mickey has to give him, but it is still not enough.

Ian is clearly thinking the same because he reaches out and puts a warm hand on Mickey’s freezing shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed the temperature until Ian touched him and the irony makes Mickey want to cry. Even his body is useless until Ian shows him what it should be feeling.

“I can’t stay just to be your mistress. You have a wife, you have a baby on the way and you won’t admit you’re gay. What can I do? Hmm? What can I do, Mick? What life is that for me?”

Ian speaks gently but every word slices the wound his departure opened in Mickey a little further.

“You chased after me, drove across town and nearly got yourself killed but when it comes to it that’s all you can do. You race to the brink and then you stop. I can’t keep stopping with you. I have to take a leap of faith somewhere. Maybe this is it. Go home, Mickey.”

Ian leans down and gently kisses Mickey’s cheek, tasting the slightly bitter salt from his earlier tears with only a faint surprise. Ian had cried too, but long before now and he simply doesn’t have any more tears to give.

Mickey touches his fingertips lightly to the kiss and swallows heavily, his eyes fixed on the back of Ian’s head as he walks back toward the bus. There is a roaring sound in Mickey’s ears and with every step Ian takes it seems to get louder and more insistent until it fills him completely, blinding him as well as deafening him. He shakes his head to clear it and see’s Ian’s face in profile, the strong line of his chin and the soft curve of his nose. The smattering of freckles across his cheekbones and the auburn sweep of his eyelashes. Loss hits Mickey like a thunderbolt and he takes a shuddering gasp before closing his eyes and letting the words he can no longer subdue tear out of his throat into the freezing Chicago air

Ian turns sharply and stares at him incredulously

“What did you say?”

“I said, I love you.”

Mickey opens his eyes wide and raises his eyebrows challengingly

“There. You happy now?”

Ian blinks at him mutely and then a small smile touches the corner of his mouth and he turns toward Mickey. He lets the bag fall from his shoulder and takes five quick strides forward until they are chest to chest, close enough that he can see the puckered flesh on Mickey’s pale arms, white with cold and the faint chapping on his lips, bitten and a little cracked. He can smell pomade, tobacco, and the musky vanilla scented soap that Mickey likes. He can see his future shifting shape and it might be better it might be worse but it no longer feels like it matters.

“Yes. If you mean it, then yes.”

Ian nods and Mickey runs a terse hand through his hair.

“I mean it. I don’t know the fuck I’m gonna do about it, but I mean it.”

“You can let me kiss you. Right here.”

Ian smiles and Mickey rolls his eyes, pressing his lips together tightly at the thought of it

“You better be getting your ass in car immediately afterwards.”

“Yeah. I will be.”

Ian gently cups the back of Mickey’s head and presses his lips softly against Mickey’s own. His kiss is gentle and reassuring, nothing like the fiercely passionate kisses that they have shared before, which have been all tongues and clashing teeth, an extension of the rough foreplay that Mickey needs to relax.

Ian pulls back and opens his eyes but Mickey remains frozen in place for a split second longer, eyes closed and lips slightly parted and Ian realises he has probably never been kissed like that before in his life, so he does it again.

This time Mickey responds, his hand coming up to mirror Ian’s own, running through the short red hair, his thumb caressing the shell of Ian’s ear with more tenderness that Ian realised Mickey’s hands were capable of.

The officer with the clipboard smiles and thinks of his own husband at home and neatly crosses Philip Gallagher off the list.

“We won’t be needing you on this bus, Gallagher. Mix up with the paperwork. Get out of here.”

He calls and then frowns at Mickey

“And you! Move your fucking car!”

*

Mickey drives and Ian watches the recruitment bus in the rear-view mirror until it is out of sight as they round a corner. Mickey glances over and tongues the corner of his mouth, eyebrows knitting together guiltily.

“If … ah … if you still wanna do this shit when you’re eighteen – I’ll deal with it, you know? Gotta live your dreams, man.”

Ian smiles and lays his hand lightly on Mickey’s thigh

“What about your dreams?”

Mickey snorts and shakes his head.

“I don’t have anything like that. Fuck fighting for this shit hole country! But I like redheads and I got one so, yeah. Maybe I’m okay with just that.”

Ian laughs and grins at Mickey before rolling his head languidly across the headrest to look at him properly

“I love you too, you know that right?”

Mickey startles and half looks at Ian before turning his eyes back to the road.

“No, I didn’t know that.”

His voice is quiet and a little subdued but there is a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth and after a moment his fingers begin to drum a quick little beat on the steering wheel. He is clearly and unmistakably very fucking happy.

Ian puts the radio on and the car is filled with the jingling opening of ‘Africa’ by Toto. Ian begins singing softly, deliberately exaggerating the pull of the words across his lips and Mickey laughs

“Man, this car don’t need to get any gayer!”

“… it’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from youuu”

Ian ignores him and closes his eyes dramatically, pumping his fists in time with the music. Mickey is trying to watch the road but his gaze keeps flicking back to Ian and as the drums signal the next chorus he licks his lips and joins in, his voice rough but surprisingly tuneful. The song continues and their voices get louder and more exuberant as it reaches its finale

“I BLESS THE RAINS DOWN IN AAAAAFRICAAAAAA!”

Both boys bellow the words, laughing as much as they are singing, pumping out of the windows, pointing at other cars and generally enjoying one stolen moment in a lifetime of thousands.

Ian leans forward with his iPhone camera and snaps a photo of them both. Mickey is pouting like a fucking rock star and Ian sets it as his background without hesitation. 

It is a new chapter and the future is limitless.


End file.
